


Potty Mouths

by I May Age Regress (shnuffeluv)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Non-Sexual Age Play, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 23:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17672000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/I%20May%20Age%20Regress
Summary: Mycroft swears a lot, even as a kid. John is not amused.





	Potty Mouths

The expletive was shouted at five in the morning, just minutes after John was finally able to be somewhat lulled into sleep in an unfamiliar house. John sat up, toed into his slippers, and walked out into the hall, mumbling all the while about how it was too early for this. When he made it to the kitchen, where the word had been shouted from, he saw Mycroft sucking on his fingers and scowling at the kettle. "Mycroft, it's five in the morning," he said by way of greeting.

"Bloody kettle scalded me," he responded, fingers still firmly in his mouth.

John rolled his eyes in the early light of dawn and readjusted the kettle so it was resting further away from the counter edge. "Watch your language, love," he sighed. "You don't want Sherlock to hear you talking like that."

"Sherlock's not gonna be here for three days," Mycroft said petulantly. "I'll swear all I bloody like."

John turned to look at Mycroft. "Kid, you're too young to be using those sorts of words. They're rude."

Mycroft stared at him blankly for a moment, and John braced himself for the snarky comment he would get in return. "You were in the bloody army."

"Your point?" John asked.

"You've heard-and said-worse," Mycroft said. "I shouldn't be appalling you."

John squinted his eyes shut tight and took a deep breath, counting to ten. He hated Mycroft sometimes. Or at the very least, he hated the seven-year-old's smart mouth. "The fact remains that you shouldn't do it," John said. "And you definitely shouldn't be shouting the f-word at five in the b--five in the morning."

Mycroft's eyes lit up with interest, letting John know he had caught the almost-swear. "I can swear," he insisted stubbornly. "You can't do anything to stop me."

John arched an eyebrow at the clear challenge. "We'll see about that. Right now, though, you should be getting back to bed."

"I want tea," Mycroft said simply.

"Yeah, and I want to be back at Baker Street instead of being on this forced vacation as glorified security, but we can't always have what we want," John replied. He gestured out of the kitchen. "Come on. To bed. For at least another two hours."

Mycroft groaned but walked out of the room, and John helped him up to the master bedroom, where Mycroft collapsed onto the mattress and promptly started reading his copy of  _Treasure Island_. Not what John wanted, but at least it would keep Mycroft occupied and quiet while John got the barest hint of rest that he so desperately needed. He went down the hall to his own bed, and collapsed in it, succumbing to sleep quickly.

When he woke, it was to Mycroft perched on the edge of his bed, watching him. "Can I help you?" John asked, sitting up.

"I still want tea, and I've waited two hours," Mycroft said.

"Okay, I'll make you tea," John said, yawning. "Have you been up the whole time?"

"Not as if I could get anymore sleep," Mycroft muttered, swearing more under his breath in a couple different languages.

"Mycroft, I know you don't like it, but please, try to stop swearing?" John asked.

"Or what?" Mycroft challenged.

John blinked. How was he supposed to respond to that challenge? "Well, for starters, you wouldn't be getting your fruit tea, you'd just be getting Earl Grey."

Mycroft froze in the hallway, staring at John with mutiny in his eyes.

"For another thing, I could keep Bunny with me until nighttime, because I won't take away your protection from the monsters when the monsters come out, but there aren't any monsters during the day. You can play with your other toys," John said calmly, meeting Mycroft's glare with a level stare. "And if that doesn't work, well. Maybe I can take you out and around our little vacationing town and see if you swear then."

"I wouldn't swear then!" Mycroft said, scandalized.

"Well, then why do you do it here?" John asked.

"Because it's..." Mycroft trailed off.

John crossed his arms. "It's what? Come on, Mycroft, tell me. I want to be in on the joke."

"It's just you," Mycroft said, looking away. "I didn't think you'd care."

"Yeah? And yet you keep doing it even after I told you to stop. Do you really have that little respect for me?" John asked.

Mycroft pouted. "You never told me to stop before."

"No, but Sherlock has. I never needed to. You never swore when it was just us," John said. "Now that you're using it every other word, you need to stop."

Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock says I can find other, better words to use," Mycroft groused. "But maybe that's the word that best fits!"

"Maybe. But seven-year-old's don't get the right to swear," John said. "What happens if you make it a habit? You could use it sometime you really shouldn't, like to an authority figure. That would  _not_  be an outcome you'd like, I'm sure."

"Why do you have to use logic against me?" Mycroft whined.

"Because you respond best to logic," John said. "Do you agree to stop swearing?"

Mycroft looked at him flatly for a couple seconds, and just when John was convinced Mycroft was going to tell him in no uncertain terms to shove it, he grumbled, "Fine."

"Good lad," John praised lightly. "You get your fruit tea, then."

Mycroft looked somewhat appeased. "At least I still get that," he mumbled.

"Mycroft, you  _do_  realize that I'd only take that away as a consequence for your bad behavior?" John asked. "You already agreed to stop said bad behavior, therefore I don't take it away."

With a shrug, Mycroft nodded. "I guess," he allowed. "...Do I still get to play with Bunny?"

"After breakfast," John assured.

"And when can I talk to Sherlock?" Mycroft asked.

"Lunch, at the latest. I made him promise to call me this morning," John said. "He'll be here before you know it, don't worry."

Mycroft nodded, and as they reached the kitchen, John started to make tea. "I worry about him anyway," Mycroft admitted.

"I know you do," John said. "And so does Sherlock. It's part of why he's annoyed at you whenever you're an adult."

Mycroft ducked his head, but John didn't hear a single swear come out of his mouth. He sighed, relaxing. He doubted it would be long before Mycroft started trying it again, but at least John knew a way to get through to him, more or less.


End file.
